


Training Session

by ShannonPhillips



Series: AUs and Out-takes [3]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Porn Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 08:09:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5820835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShannonPhillips/pseuds/ShannonPhillips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally written for the Star Wars Rebels kinkmeme (http://swr-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org), to satisfy a request for Kallus masturbating to thoughts of Hera while hating himself. Warnings for exploitative pornography, anti-alien bigotry, and mention of slavery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Training Session

Kallus double checks the lock on his door, sets the ambient lighting to precisely 65 percent luminosity, arrays lotion, tissue, and datapad neatly on the bed, and prepares himself for another training session.  
  
The datapad holds a careful selection of very normal pornography. There’s not actually any such thing as Imperial regulation pornography, but if there was, this would be it. Busty Human women wearing skimpy, shiny versions of army and fleet uniforms, which they then proceed to remove from themselves and each other with varying degrees of gusto. Often then one or more faceless men (well, they have faces, but the holocam is not interested in capturing them) will emerge from offscreen to engage in coitus. Things proceed in a predictable, formulaic fashion.  
  
Masturbation is a normal and healthy part of adult self-care. Kallus knows that. He also knows that this is exactly the type of material he should be using to find release.  
  
He undresses--laying out his uniform carefully to avoid wrinkles—and stretches out on the bed. He squirts a measured amount of lotion into his left hand and picks up the datapad in his right. He takes himself in hand, stroking and tugging, and starts the queued-up scene.  
  
“Mmmmmm,” says the first woman as the second rubs a long-nailed finger over her pussy. “Ahhhhhh.” She’s wearing thigh-high boots and a military beret cocked at a jaunty angle. The other woman is wearing a strap-on and nothing else.  
  
Kallus’ dick is soft, no matter how insistently he pulls at it. The retraining has had no apparent effect so far. He’ll have to be persistent.  
  
He forces himself to watch precisely two minutes of the vid. Then he stops it and switches over to _Alien Jizzfest 19: Tails and Tentacles_. He owns the whole series, but 19 is his favorite by far.  
  
Two Twi’lek dancers, one blue and one red, gyrating together in a central space with a mixed-species audience of men arrayed around them. Kallus’ cock twitches immediately. He lets himself watch as the tailheads strip off what scraps of clothing they started with. The men around them are openly masturbating and Kallus allows himself to be just another of that throng. Soon, he knows, the men will grab those little alien sluts and push them to the ground...  
  
A pulse of sensation travels over him as his cock springs to attention. Kallus gives himself a few leisurely strokes. The Twi’leks are naked now, running their hands over each other’s breasts and asses. He’s so hard...  
  
Kallus stops the vid. Returns to the human women. They are genetically pure, superior. He should not soil himself with desire for alien filth. These retraining sessions are intended to convince his cock to fall into alignment with his ethics and his principles.  
  
He watches the normal holovid for another two minutes. In that time the woman with the strap-on begins to pound the lady with the beret, who lies back and issues a series of unconvincing moans. Also, Kallus loses his erection.  
  
_Alien Jizzfest_ is waiting. Kallus switches back, fast-forwards a few minutes till he gets to the good parts. There—the tailheads are on their knees and the men have crowded around. Both of their mouths and all of their hands are filled with hard cocks. Other men are pawing at their bodies.  
  
Kallus grows hard too, within seconds.  
  
He should switch back to the normal vid now. But there’s a lingering closeup of the men fondling those head-tentacles, squeezing them, rubbing their cocks on them. The girls’ faces screw up but the men fucking their mouths hold them in place. Kallus pumps himself quickly, almost desperately. Yes, he wants to see those tails pulled at and molested. He wants to see that smooth blue and red skin covered in cum.  
  
_But it would be better if it was green._  
  
Kallus eyes half-close. Through languid slits, he watches the vid progress. But he’s thinking about a different little tailhead. The rebel he’d had within his grasp--the one that had managed to slip away. Frustrating. He’d certainly like to have her on her knees. She ought to be taught her place.  
  
Aliens have a role in the glorious Empire. It’s a role of service. Most of them--especially the tailhead whores--are best suited to slavery.  
  
But Kallus is above all this. He wouldn’t sully himself with that green rebel even if she was here. He wouldn’t give her the honor of sucking his cock, and he certainly wouldn’t taste her head-tails--wouldn’t lick them, wouldn’t suck them, wouldn’t flick his tongue over the ends until she begged him for more--  
  
Kallus comes, hips bucking, semen spilling all over his hand. The pleasure is hard and bright and all-too-quickly fades, leaving sour shame behind.  
  
He wipes himself up, inwardly berating himself for his failure of will. Kallus prides himself on his discipline and attention to detail. On his commitment to the Imperial cause. What do these continued lapses say about his moral fiber?  
  
He thins his lips. This training session went poorly. A setback, to be sure. But he won’t give up.  
  
And he’ll never give in.


End file.
